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anb 



Songs of Seventy — First Series 



(^f^0ian ^u^^ 



(XMh 



<Oi^tt ^^uff 



BY 

ALMONT BARNES 



HAMILTON ADAMS, Publisher 

WASHINGTON 

M C M 

V 









UKRARY of )0N{3K?ISS[ 
(wo Copies i<et«voti ^ 

AUG 8 1905 j 



oupy 8. I 



Copyright, 1905, by Almont Barnes 



ZU JSorb (^affttttore (ptcee 

THE FRIEDENWALD COMPANY 
BALTIMORE, MD., U. S. A. 



/ 



^^ 



Confenfe 

CONFESSION 5 

DEVOIR— TO HER 8 

ELYSIAN FIELDS: 

Elysian Fields lo 

Anchyses to Venus 15 

Love's Ancient Gifts 17 

Infelix in Amore 20 

Our Lady of Dreams 24 

Home-Made Ghosts 26 

SUMMER SHIMMER: 

Magnolia Grandiflora 28 

Cloistral with Nature 31 

Whippoorwill 35 

Co' Bossie 37 

BUGLES: 

The Soldier's Wife— 1861 41 

Before the Battle— 1863 43 

Arlington — 1878 47 

Memorial Song — 1905 50 

The Flag 52 

[3] 



CONTENTS 



SOMETHING ELSE: 

The Ungained Increment 55 

Trinity of Home 59 

A Voiceless Cry 61 

Good-Bye-Land 64 

Lips on Lips 66 

The Undertone 68 

AFTER ALL: 

Robins 71 

NOTE 73 



[4] 



£onfe00ton 




HIS thing has been going on 
for a long time, come to 
think of it. First, in child- 
hood — " needless alexan- 
drines," as Pope said; at 
least it was near Alexandria, and it might 
have been stopped then. But from the 
old English Reader, administered at school, 
the writer's mind became tainted with 
rhyme, and before he was fifteen he was 
no longer immune. Yet there succeeded 
many happy days of prosy sanity; but 
before the time of coming of age there 
occurred the practically fatal " Anchyses to 
Venus " recorded herein. Inexperienced 
and unguided, what better could have been 
expected of ardent youth? Still, at one 
time a radical cure seemed imminent — in 
Tupper. 



[5] 



CONFESSION 



But the insidious appetite for rhyming 
carries its own fatality. Even those who 
take the new^spaper cure may relapse; for 
exasperating proofs and bad print are not 
specifics. The magazines are more reliable 
in their discouragement of the poetic habit, 
for these philanthropic institutions seem 
nobly to select their own horrible examples, 
with which to dismay the ordinary victim 
of numbers, and they even fill up a few 
pages, now and then, with expensive adver- 
tisements, thus delicately to turn him away 
towards humanity and reason. Witness the 
prevalent Corset literature — so obviously 
promotive of tendencies against race suicide. 

But, alas, this fails of being specific 
against secret indulgence in imported or na- 
tive moonshine poetry, and poets are some- 
times detected, by otherwise valued friends, 
in staggering under couplets of uneven 
feet — are too often found saturated with old 
rhymes. Else why should the writer of 



[6] 



CONFESSION 



" Anchyses to Venus," after fifty years, 
sink to the level of *' Cloistral with Na- 
ture "? It appears almost certain that he 
will go to Helicon in his own way. 

It is difficult in some cases for the rhymer 
merely to become fuddled intellectually, be- 
cause he has arrived at the certainty implied 
in " swearing off from swearing off." He 
is most likely to become a literary tramp, 
with vSelf-sufficiency of abandonment to 
cuddle himself with the belief that the com- 
fort of the soul is in the soul — and then no 
" unhappy Dido," " dragged along the night 
in varied discourse," and '* affected with old 
love," can hold *' pious ^neas " from his 
bent by remonstrating: 

" For even now the sevent[iet]h summer 
carries thee roving all lands and seas." Or, 
as in Virgil: "Nam te jam sept[ent]ima 
portat omnibus errantem terris et fiuctibus 
aestas." 

Otherwise, no songs of seven, much less 
of seventy, years — nor of all time. 

[7] 




|HE sun drew from lone Memnon's 
lips 

Th' eternal music of the morn — 
On granite, silent, in eclipse, 

Light smote, and melody was born: 
But can your brightness from me bring 
A worthy, joy -born offering? 
Yet, from my lips touched by yours, take 
Such music as such love can make. 



[8] 



6f^0ian J'ufJie 




NCE move ! 3 ^^^ to^ap w^ere 
vot votvt foveve. 
3 eaw t?e avBor f^at (ge 

grape vine coveve, 
(3J)gere ^ou an^ 3 ^f ^^ 
maie tueftc vaeee 
^ov ffon?er6 to grow in, on t^t hvon^ eipaue, 

3 eaw t^e focuet (teee, j^apifionaceoue, 
^prea^ t^ziv gveen arnte in welcoming voa^ an'b 

gracioue, 
«lln^ to60 t^tiv pfum^ geabe, wit^ ne^etr a 

t?>ou^9ft on 
^^e ecenee 6enea(5 ^^^wt in ^aje unfovgo^ten. 



3 eaw t^e window itx t^e eeconb etorp 
(H)6ere ^our face e^one for nte, nt^ Qaint^a^ in 
gforp 

[10] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Of tvtnin^Q 0of(, cin^ w^^te, eeen in t^t movnf 

3 ftnew t^t ^a^ nee^ give no oifiev warning. 

3 eaw t^e cfematt©, m^ vtr^tn*© fiow'tr 

3n igoee ^wne ba^e, aBove (6^ ^?orc3. 3^ fFowV 

^n?ee( twinge wet-e once. One tgrueg, a ^^ofj^ 

5fo(iu0, 
6ac5 mofning aff (ge fittr^e* Beet ntuetc Btou^^t 

U0, 

Jln^ from a Box tree, ntav t^oee (Grecian vaeee 
(H)6tc6 mobevne maRe, aan^, fooRin^ in our 

facee, 
(JO^tfe ^ou 0at 5u0ge^, or Beamed wit^ 0ifent 

fau^gter. 
^ow weff ^0 3 trememBer it, t^eee ^eare t0ere:J 

after! 

3 0aw tge ^um tree, ^tnxnti ftqui^amBer, 
ilrounb w0O0e trunR an iv^ fearne^ to cfamBer, 
^iee one fife nouri06el» Botg, £etter0 initial 
(5S)e cut on tgem, ere fife ^rew artificiaf, 

[II] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



dElnb nameb t^t stuv^^ tvu an'i> cftn^tng cfimfiev, 
^6^ One for pou, t^e ot^i-v fov ^our v^^tner. 
cE6, bavfing, tveff it te we ^ee^ no etov^ 
^^at 0uc5 0n?eet (gtn^e ave fove'e memento 
mod ! 

3 0<iw t^e moob e^^e t^at in e^^ving ^ou 6<iunte^, 
(pretending it wae viofete, not me, ^ou wanted; 
^6oug5 n?6^n 3 eougS^ jou ivit^ mp e^joifo 

Botanic 
•pou onf^ 00oweb a eatiefactor^ l?anic. 

(JO^cit great ric^ gearteeaee grew afong t^at 

Border — 
©r wa0 it ^our 6fue e^ee? £aff me to orber 
Jf J misstate. (^Ut ^eficate |?inft cofor 
<Dn 6one^0ucftfe0 n>ifi>— or c^eeRa ^e vefoure ! 

(JO^at puvt ^nsan^uirxtrntnt upon t^e prim^ 

rose — 
Or on pour fipe! ^g^ee touc^e^, for pou a 

gpmn 'rose 

[12] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



(Up front m^ ^tavt to (^tnua J^p^voliU, 
QUo(5<^v of afP, vo^o maUt^ ^outg most mtg?^^, 

cHn^ mtbife fife, wavtne a^e, anb even out* ae^ee, 
3f ftfe, a0 fope, mntortaf fie. ZH ffaegee 
Jlnl) fanxfienciee t^at fute or figgt a mortal 
§^xm 0onten?a^ front ger (orc3 acroee ©eatg'e 
portaf. 

Q0J eonte eucB ft^^t to^^a^, in ntentaf vieion, 
J retroepectipe eaw our ofi», ef^eian, 
Jln^ cen^urj^fiuifbe^ paface, roofed mt^ a^ure, 
(PDit^ gifbe^ cfoube in fresco, ^o t^e nteaeure 

(Of Tpini (xrx}> oaft ita piffare ^ran^ were roun^e^, 
iln^ t^rou^^ it water nturnturouef^ eoun^e^; 
Carpete of ntoee, renewed t^roug^ enbfeee 

0untmer0, 
Careeeeb to eifence footetepe of aff contere; 

^0ere feme ^rew Pow afon^ a ntareg^ Border, 
(pan'0 unu0e^ rentnant0 of tje Corinthian 

orber, 

[13] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



ilnb 8uge tree voo^e, iviil) ficften fivoi^ere^ 

C0X>Cvr5, 
(JUa^e frt|)0 ftfte epfvan ^ran^eitee for ue, fopere. 

O (pafacc of (tk (JDoo^o! wBcrc are tfip fcnante? 
^6rtt 0tveet ^Jin^o paoo aiva^s tBrtt t6 fove'o 

penance. 
a)e( tjou^g tge geart goft)^ 6u( a 6voften eior^, 
3^0 ^ea^ pa0(,wear0 t^c aureofa, (pe gfotp. 

cR^UijxQ 3 f^f^ anVeaw, w^tf^ opee^tng onward, 
3t Bo^j anb 0ouf from ouneet (urntn^ sunward, 
Zo Breaet (ge QUorn anl) QUemorp. Tl^<xipp^ 

vteton, 
^0 catcS once more a gfimpee of ;§'tef^0 

6f^0ian! 



[14] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



dRnc^peee to (^cnuB 

fej^^OME, O my Princess, lay thy cheek 
1^^^ to mine — 

Thine full and fair! 
Unbind thy tresses — let them intertwine 

With my dark, dew-damp hair! 
Coiled serpent-wise, in glory of their gloss. 
Spring them upon my head from out their 
circled boss! 

Thine arm lies o'er me like a swooning 
thing. 
Flame under snow. 
My heart's tense strength holds thy heart 
fluttering, 
And will not let it go. 
My lips to thine, thy lips to mine are 

pressed. 
As if in love's sweet labor only there were 
rest. 

[IS] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



I drink thy breath — a faint, ethereal wine — 

In sense and soul 
I feel its gentle potency divine, 

And own its deep control. 
Thine eyes like violets draw their dew from 

heaven. 
And tenderer grow with light of love re- 
ceived and given. 

O couldst thou always lie as thou dost now, 
In one long dream, 
, With all thy midnight beauty 'round thy 
brow. 
And this soft-coming gleam 
Of light supernal lingering on thy bloom, 
I'd cling to thee for aye, and cheat the fam- 
ished tomb. 



fi6] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 




fiope'0 iincieni &ift& 

F in the Orient, 

Over some kingdom rich and wide, 
I were a Prince, and couchant at my side 
My golden Hons lay, and a throne brent 
Above a crowd of nobles were my seat. 
And cloth of gold drooped heavy to my feet ; 
Lo, if such grandeur were my regal state. 
Magnificently great, 
I would command, and so a train should 

move 
Laden with gold, and silks that women love, 
And linens fair, and spices, and perfume, 
And flowers rare, of oriental bloom, 
And wine from ancient hillsides, where the 

sun 
The earth's swart breast his cheek had laid 

upon 
Until it blushed in grapes, and figs, and 

dates, 
And ruddy pomegranates; 

[17] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



And these with many gems, woven in gold 
In curious ways, and patterns manifold, 
Spelling thy name and full of praise of thee, 
These on the laden train should go from me 
With sound of silver bells ; and with it all 
Should go my prayer that nothing ill befall 
Those gifts, nor thee, O Princess rare and 

sweet! 
All these, for thee, should gather at thy feet, 
And make me glad in giving them as thee 
Receiving them. 

But now, ah me! 
I am no prince, and riches have I none 
That one should gladdened be to look upon; 
Only my heart is kingly. But unseen 
Are its best gifts wherewith to deck a 

Queen. 
In place of gold, only some golden thought 
Into a web of rhyme for thee is wrought; 
Instead of gems, there is a little praise ^ 
Of thee, and, haply, noting of the ways 



[i8] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Wherein thy pleasure is; instead of wine, 
Love, that is older, sadder, but divine; 
And lo, at last, my poverty to prove, 
I am made royal only by thy love. 
And own a kingdom only while of me 
There shall remain one welcome thought in 
thee. 



[19] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



5nfefix in Jlmore 




THAT sweet things so sad should 
ever be! 

That even in my bliss no peace for me 
Blooms like a flower ; but like a bud, instead, 
Touched by some curse of frost, fades and is 

dead. 
O love of mine, O woman sweet and fair. 
Whose gentle fingers, touching but my hair 
Have made me thrill, while yet my lips were 

dumb. 
Hushed by my very love of thee, what room 
Is any more among the just for me. 
Since I have wronged thee so, in loving 

thee? 
Since I with kisses redder than the rose, 
And softer than the wind's kiss, when it 

blows 
At evening upon roses, wronged thee so 
Beyond the ken of even love to know — 

[20] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Wronged thee with dear embraces, disa- 
vowed 
By swift retraction, while my heart beat 

loud 
So that it shook me, so that your heart 

heard, 
And knew my being centered in a word 
Whose meaning died upon my lips, for 

shame. 
Yet lit my eyes, and flushed me as a flame! 
O love, sweet love, not mine nor mine to be 
If love be kind, not cruel unto thee 
To bring thee pain instead of happiness 
Most infinite, why may I not thee bless 
Whom I so cherish as the best of all? 
Thee, upon whom no grief should ever fall 
If I were lord of fate, not thrall of love ! 
Ah, strange it is that I may never prove 
How dear I hold thee, only in this wise: 
To look upon thee ever with cold eyes ; 
To shut my heart back in a lonely place, 
And never let its love wine flush my face ; 



[21] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



To make my hand move steady as a 

friend's, 
Nor let the soft touch of its finger ends 
Stray to thy fingers furtively; nor be 
Forevermore aught but a friend to thee. 
Can I do this? What better should I win 
If here sweet love should end, and love 

begin 
That sacrifices and is mute — if I, 
Thee loving best, my love should crucify? 
Perhaps some morning after that lone 

night 
When our eyes close the last time on the 

light 
That shows one side of things, distortedly. 
Thou mayest know this my great love of 

thee, 
We in another world, and wiser grown 
Because of patient suffering alone; 
And with swift steps, and eyes that glad- 
dened are, 
And all the old-time glory on thy hair, 



[22] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Thou mayest to me come, or wilt let me 

come 
Gladly to thee, neither again to roam. 
And this may be: the numbness and the 

ache 
That hurt our lives for only love's sweet 

sake 
May chasten us, and make us doubly wise 
To look upon all men with gentler eyes. 
But, ah, I know not! Love so subtle is. 
Betraying us to sorrow with a kiss, 
I cannot tell what ever may befall 
While I am I, and love rules over all. 
Yet, so life may not love's own life o'erstay, 
Life's peace be dearer to thee than love's 

life, alway! 



[23] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Our £ab^ of ®rcant0 

M DREAMED of thee! Within a 
bow'r 
Filled with faint odor and with shade, 
To which there came with soothing pow'r 

Low music, by a fountain made, 
I dreamed I saw, while there I lay, 
The fairest vision man may see. 
But, ah! the vision died away — 

I only dreamed. But 'twas of thee! 

I dreamed of thee at depth of night, 

When slumber brooded o'er my bed, 
And, lo'! the hour was with delight 

Filled, from thy willing presence shed. 
Fair dream, remembered with a sigh 

For all it brought, and took from me, 
Ere I awoke and none was nigh! 

I only dreamed — but 'twas of thee ! 

[24] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



Awake, asleep, by dark or day, 

A gracious vision haunts my brain. 
Something of you is mine alway, 

Which you may not redeem again. 
You cannot banish your sweet face, 

Whate'er you be, or do, or seem; 
The benediction of its grace 

Is mine — and that is not a dream. 



[25] 



ELYSIAN FIELDS 



N a summer ihat backv/ard has 
^j^) drifted 

To silence and dimness of dreams, 
From which not a shadow is Ufted, 

On which no new Hght ever beams, 
Is a garden whose flov/ers have ended 

Their bloom, and v/hose odors are lost; 
For the leaves are all dead, that v/ere 
splendid, 

And fallen v/ithout v/inter or frost. 

And ghosts of the dead that are living 

Are haunting that garden of fiow'rs, 
And seem to be taking and giving 

Their gifts as in days that were ours. 
Wherever v/e be will that garden 

And ghosts of the living appear — 
Our selves of the past, keeping v/ard in 

The haunts of a fugitive year. 

[261 



^untrnet ^^immer 



(TUagnoPia (Bran5iffora 

^^ShE Summer bridelike comes, with 

SK^^ trailing bloom. 

Her soft warm breath, love rich with thy 

perfume, 
Makes tropic-scented languor in my room, 

Magnolia. 

Remembrance of thee hath been with me 

still 
In brown of Autumn and the Winter chill. 
Until, Spring passing, June days with thee 

fill. 

Magnolia. 

Slow grew the glossy green into thy dress, 
That curtains half away from watchfulness 
Thy swelling whiteness, which but winds 

caress, 

Magnolia. 

[28] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Loth to unfold thy rich excess of grace, 
Luxurious queenliness came to thy face 
As though it had in flowers no other place, 

Magnolia. 

Thine odor, clinging like love's clinging 

kiss, 
Voiceless proclaims thy apotheosis. 
Thy glorious bloom sufficient language is, 

Magnolia. 

Thee watching, golden hearted as the day 
I see thee slowly come, to briefly stay, 
And feel perfection leaves few words to say. 

Magnolia. 

I mind me of a Maiden, beauty whole 

For that brief time her summer o'er her 

stole — 
But our poor bloom is fretted with a soul, 

Magnolia. 

[29] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Well if, her mission o'er, no more she be. 
But shed her creamy lilies monthed with 

thee. 
And leaves while gone a sweet white mem- 
ory, 

Magnolia. 

The roses with their thorns, when thou art 
dead. 

Will meet the later days with bloom un- 
shed; 

But none shall be like thee remembered, 

Magnolia. 



[30] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Religious coolness of the air! 
^J Primeval solitude! 
I here drink tipple springs prepare, 

Streams smuggle through the wood. 
I lie against the willing knees 

Of this old friendly tree, 
And dream to wordless lullabies 
The breezes croon to me. 

Care left me at this forest edge 

To Nature, and my heart. 
Long hindered of the privilege, 

I gain my birthright part. 
I hail my free friend flashing by. 

Full of a summer soul, 
That meteor of a leafy sky 

The flame-bright oriole. 



[31] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



My coming stilled the little sounds 

Which lull this drowsy glen — 
As one Arachne's weaving wounds, 

That is renewed again — 
But now I hear the tender coo 

Of turtles, newly met, 
And the cicada, hid, renew 

Its curious Castanet. 

The bombus makes a bagpipe drone 

In her impatient flight. 
Yet breaks at any time the tone 

To suddenly alight. 
And bury with a busy joy 

Her head, in honey quest. 
As does his face an unweaned boy 

Within the offered breast. 

The saucy squirrel scuds away 
And up some stately tree. 

Then makes a questioning survey 
From his safe height, of me; 



[32] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Or, prompted by the reasons old 

That move the subtle brute, 
Shells kernels for the winter cold 

From even squamous fruit; 

Or with the pine nut in his paws 

He chatters and he jeers — 
Until his neighbors send applause — 

At me, less than his peers; 
Provokes approach, and laughs to scorn 

The impotence of size 
That starves upon his wealth of corn, 

And stumbles while he flies. 

On bed of moss, with resting eyes 

And blessed by wooing air, 
I dream into the summer skies 

So fathomless and fair. 
On clouds that gently veer and float 

Far through their heavenly seas. 
Not from earth's troubles less remote, 

Nor freighted with less peace. 

[33] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Only, that I no more return 

Where waits for me my care, 
But in eternal summer earn 

Its needlessness of pray'r; 
Lie hugged to Nature's nurturing breast, 

To partings unbeguiled 
Which sever, from united rest. 

That mother and her child ! 



[34] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



(?E)$ippoowiff 

y^l^^N the silent southern night, 
\^^) While the stars are softly bright, 
Drawn to lights of quiet homes 
Then the simple singer comes: 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

All the nights with music thrill; 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

Till the dawn comes, singing still. 

On the porch the household sits 
Silent, as the singer flits 
Nearer, nearer, bush by bush, 
Pouring through the evening hush: 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

All the nights, etc. 

Even through her happy dreams 
Come the flitting music gleams 

[35] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



To the maiden, slumbering sweet — 
Dream and music mingling meet — 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

All the nights, etc. 

Home's own minstrel of the night, 
Ere the busy day grows bright 
Like a spirit thou hast flown. 
Leaving but a word and tone: 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

Homely sounds are dearest still. 

Whippoorwill ! Whippoorwill ! 

Simplest words the deepest thrill. 



[36] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 




"to' QSoeeie" 

HILE soft the summer twilight 
falls, 

Ere yet the westering light is hid, 
Or in near trees the hyla calls, 

Or starts its twit the katydid, 
The slow-paced heavy-uddered kine 

Move homeward at the milkmaid's cry, 
By devious paths in crooked line. 
Brindle and Spot, 
Dimple and Dot, 
And petted silken-coated Floss, 

Each knows the voice that calls and why : 
Co' bos! Co' bossie! Co' bos!" 

How memory takes us back to homes. 
Some alien but to memory now. 

When soft the summer evening comes, 
And far we hear the looing cow 

[37] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



And see the herd wind down the lane, 
Responsive to the well-known call 
That brings it to be milked again. 
Brindle and Spot, 
Dimple and Dot, 
And venturous, roaming, frisky Floss 

Snatching the wheat ears o'er the wall: 
Co' bos ! Co' bossie ! Co' bos ! " 

Perhaps we knew the milkmaid then, 

One sweet as God makes farmers' girls; 
With gentle, helpful ways, and ken 

Of only thoughts as pure as pearls. 
Her gift and smile made water wine; 

Her handiwork changed milk to gold; 
And ne'er was music more divine, 
Brindle and Spot, 
Dimple and Dot, 
And fawn-eyed, free, familiar Floss, 

Than was her call to you, of old : 
Co' bos! Co' bossie! Co' bos!" 

[38] 



SUMMER SHIMMER 



Loved rural scenes of farm and fields 

Which retrospective thought recalls, 
The different present to you yields 

Its twilight of memorial halls; 
Till half in dream, and half in truth. 

The simpler life the country lives 
Restores at times our vanished youth: 
Brindle and Spot, 
Dimple and Dot, 
Come home at milking-time with Floss, 

And some lost voice the old call gives: 
Co' bos ! Co' bossie ! Co' bos ! " 



[39] 



(gugfeef 



1861 



l^jj^; OW wearily the days go by, 
JJj3^^ How silence sits a guest at home, 
While she, with listless step and eye. 

Still waits for one who does not come! 
The sunshine streams across the floor, 

A golden, solitary track, 
The bees hum in and out the door. 
The olden clock goes klick-a-klack, 
And baby, with her wonder eyes. 

Watches the kitten's noiseless play 
Till sleep comes gently, and she lies 
At rest, through hush of summer day. 



When twilight cometh, dim and gray. 
She sits anear the open door. 

Before her lies the graveled way, 
O'erhung by ancient sycamore ; 



[41] 



BUGLES 

And through the eve she hears the cry 

Of whippoorwills, that near the light, 
She sees the star of evening die, 
And all around her broods the night: 
Then, " By-lo-baby, baby-by! " 

She sings her little one to rest, 
And muses with it lovingly 

Held, warm and close, against her 
breast. 

Beside her lowly couch she kneels, 

And clasps her hands before her face. 
Ah, only Christ knows what she feels, 

A lonely supplicant for grace! 
She prays for one who does not come. 

And draws an answer from her hopes; 
And then, within her silent home. 

While stars slide down night's silvery 

slopes. 
She nestles close beside her child. 

And one arm o'er it shielding throws. 
And dreams of joy, by dreams beguiled. 
Until the rose of morning blows. 

[42] 



BUGLES 



QBefore t^c (gattk 

1863 



V^lj^ 'M lying out to-night, love, 
l^^gj Beneath a moon and stars 
That sift a silvery misty light 

Down through the cloudy bars 
Which float along them, as a veil might 

move 
Before the face of one serenely bright, 
As the Madonna. Armies hushed to sleep 
Lie 'round me quiet as the placid deep. 

And all is wondrous still: 
Above if there be any melody 
It comes not audibly adown to me, 

Unless, perhaps, that without thought or 
will 

My inmost sense receives some soft refrain, 
And knows not whence it emanates ; 

[43] 



BUGLES 



Yet listens but to hear it once again 

Ooze through heaven's golden gates — 
For it should be of heaven at the hour 
When the late bee dreams on the drooping 
flow'r. 

And here below 

Repose and silence over all things creep ; 
And rest is given by a little peace 

That leadeth down to sleep 
Low through the vale of tender reveries: 
Sleep, that for weary ones who watch the 

war 
Twines poppy wreaths 'round many a rug- 
ged brow, 
Dreamful of those who us are waiting for 

Beyond the battle shock and cannon 
sound. 
But I, beloved, how dear to me the hour! 

I send my memory roaming after thee, 
While here I reckon stars to count the dow'r 

That love bestows on me. 



[44] 



BUGLES 

My heart is bathed in calm, 

And full of hope as are of roses Junes; 
And over me steal pleasant memories, 
Welcomed as shade of great ancestral trees 

In summer afternoons. 
My thoughts are but thanksgivings of a 
psalm 

In night's vast temple, altared by this 
mound. 
Whate'er of life or death awaits the scene, 
Nothing annuls the glory that hath been. 

I lie half dreamily upon the ground, 

With wordless prayer that frets the edge 
of sleep. 
Before the morning comes, with gradual 
sound, 

Along the stations that the armies keep. 
The lifted morn may see unhearted War 

Commit its giant murder. If I lie 
Among the host the grave is waiting for. 

Stabbed 'neath the battle's smoky canopy 

[45] 



BUGLES 

By the swift shot; aye, should my life, 
Hot and forgetful of all save the strife, 
Be shriveled by the cannon's kiss of flame 
And blown away as nothing; in the name 
Of all in which the least or best may trust 
I pray that from my unremembered dust 
Fair peace may bloom for country, home, 

and wife. 
Come rest, come sleep, for there is nothing 

more 
Till day shrinks shuddering nightward from 

the battle roar! 



[46] 



BUGLES 



Jlrftngfon 

1878 




\j DAYS that are dead as the roses 

Which blossom where no roses 
grew, 
On the tomb where forever reposes 

The soldier who fear never knew ; * 
Your suns which rose sullen and lurid, 
And gleamed through the smoke of the 
fray, 
In the darkness of Peace are now buried, 
As a meteor passeth away! 

No more the hoof tramples the meadow 

In the passion and power of fight ; 
No more through the sentineled shadow 

Of evening the camp-fires are bright; 
No more the far bugle sounds, lonely. 

To call the tired soldier to sleep, 
Far watched by the patient eyes only 

Of Night, from her infinite deep — 

*Tomb of the Unknown Dead. 

[47] 



BUGLES 

Peace reigns! Peace, which steals the rich 
favors 

That War out of carnage has won, 
Through the long and applauded endeavors 

That robbed many homes of a son. 
Blow loud through the land like a trumpet. 

That all men may hear her false name, 
Such peace is a sanctified strumpet 

Who reddens Mars' cheek with her 
shame ! 

Peace? Peace may be deadlier than war 
is — 

Peace robbing war's dead and his 
poor — 
Peace full of the legalized forays 

On those who but live to endure — 
Peace stealing the pittance from labor — 

Peace stricturing homes till they groan — 
Peace making of Shylock a neighbor, 

Who taketh the flesh and the bone — 

[48] 



BUGLES 

Peace piping a lay in a bower, 

Lascivious strains of a lute, 
Till we wish, if for only an hour, 

For the snap and the snarl of the brute, 
Or long for the lordlier glory 

That roars from the throats of the guns 
Where the edge of the rampart is gory, 

And Victory laurels her sons! 

Blow, winds of the world, blow us battle. 

So we conquer our meanness and spite ! 
Let the hot hail of musketry rattle. 

If it teach men in honor to smite! 
Oh, tears for the brave are yet sweeter 

Than tears a sick peace makes us shed, 
And the nation is greater, and better, 

Which mourns not the living, but dead ! 



[49] 



BUGLES 



(TUemomf ^ong 

1905 

Tune — Pleyel's Hymn 

PROCESSIONAL 



I^^OMRADES, we who linger here, 
>^^^ Holding mutual memories dear, 
Let us honor, while we may, 
Comrades who have passed away. 

Ready at our country's call 
Foes to fight, and fighting fall, 
They have, on their march below, 
Heard the lone last bugle blow. 

DECORATIVE 
Honor, peace, to these our dead. 
Here to final victory wed! 
From their deeds is borne the voice 
Bidding all the land rejoice. 

[50] 



BUGLES 

Faithful through all strife, so they 
From all strife have passed away — 
Slight a nation's gift, and ours, 
That their rest is sweet with flow'rs. 

RECESSIONAL 
Comrades, who are mustered in. 
Tented host absolved of sin, 
Camped upon the Elysian Plain 
Nevermore to fight again; 

Not for many weary days 
Shall we march our nearing ways, 
Ere, with you, we gain release. 
Bivouacked in eternal peace. 



[51] 



BUGLES 



eee f fag 

^l^^IFT high the Flag, and let it stream 
^l^g^ Afar, in morning's breath and 

beam, 
In shining laughter to the sun, 
Its lover since their days are one ; 
To specik, in flap, and fling, and fold, 
To man and maid, to young and old, 
Where'er its patriot lovers be, 
The heart-cheer of our destiny. 

Lift high the Flag, that lifts us, too. 
To visions grander than we knew. 
Beyond the sordid and the mean 
The empire of our Flag is seen; 
And those who bear, through battle night. 
Its clustered stars to be their light. 
And those who cheer its going forth. 
Best know what realm and Flag are 
worth ! 

[52] 



BUGLES 

Aye, comrades of the brotherhood 
Of States, united, unsubdued ; 
Who, greatly striving to be free, 
Make all defeat all victory; 
Pass on this torch down glory's line. 
War's watchword. Peace's countersign : 
O'er homes, on mast, o'er fortress crag, 
Lift high the Flag ! Long live the Flag ! 



[53] 



^ome^^ing Sfee 



'ZifC (Ungainei) ^ncumcnt 

^^^F there are happy isles in some great 
^^^ river 

Far, far away, by whose shores lilies quiver 
On palpitating waves, with hearts all golden 
And lazy-anchored leaves, that have grown 

olden 
In one long youth; if from those emerald 

islands 
Far inland rise to silence stately highlands 
Above whose outlines verdurous, undulat- 
ing, 
Bright clouds by day and stars by night 

seem waiting; 
If from high secret springs pure streams are 

swelling, 
And glad tales never wholly told are telling 
To wandering breezes flattering crimson 
roses, 

[55] 



SOMETHING ELSE 



Or lapping in soft languor shaded closes 
Of silvery sanded bays; if from the shadow 
Of birch or aspen, edged upon some meadow 
Whose waving wealth ne'er fell before the 

mower, 
Whose increase is for Time, the eternal 

sower, 
Comes now and then a song out of the 

silence 
And dies beyond the borders of those 

islands. 
Enticing happy wanderers to wander 
In search of melody that still is yonder; 
That land to which such peace and bloom 

are given. 
Those Islands far and fair — that must be 

Heaven ! 

There should be angels — such as we have 

known them — 
Dear faces, bright with good bestowed, or 

shown them. 



[56] 



SOMETHING ELSE 



There should be welcome for the weary, 

groping 
In search of hope too long for any 

hoping. 
There words we yearn our lives through to 

hear spoken 
Should still us into blessed tears. There 

broken 
And withered garlands love in old time gave 

us 
Should suddenly rebloom, and wholly save 

us 
Distrust of all our past, or of the 

present — 
As out of a wan, weak, forgotten crescent 
A full moon rounds and fills the night with 

glory. 
There should we learn the meaning of our 

story ; 
The good of patience, benefit of sorrow. 
And why to-day was longing for to- 
morrow. 



[57] 



1 



i 



SOMETHTNG ELSE 



Ah, is there such a spot, worth each one's 
knowing, 

Where what we miss has ^onc, where we 
are going? 

Where saints we knew, who fell by way- 
sides weary 

Of battled sins, find rest and welcome 
cheery? 

Where man meets man as brother should 
meet brother, 

And human eyes look kindly on another? 

Where gods impose no penances for liv- 
ing?— 

Give us this heaven while 'tis worth the 
giving ! 



[581 



1 



SOMETHING ELSE 



'Z^xinit]^ of ^omc 



v^l^ LOVE you. If innumerable tongues 
\^^) Were mine, and each had gift of 

separate song 
Rich as the harmony of choral stars 
That sang together at creation's dawn, 
They could but tell you what my happy 

heart 
Makes through each fibre of my being glow. 
And so proclaims superfluous in my deeds — 
I love you. 

Evermore my life is glad 
With this great quiet gladness, that it knov/s 
So round, complete a love, that makes the 

days 
Ride by in sounding chariots of joy. 
And all the nights peaceful as rivers are 
Whose slumbrous depths hold heaven as a 

dream. 

[59] 



SOMETHING ELSE 



And when I see your face, or hear your 

voice, 
My heart leaps toward you as our child to 

me — 
Our child, that twining heart cords of us 

both 
Twist in a triune strand that ties to home. 
It crowds my eyes until itself can see; 
Beats in my ears until itself can hear ; 
Waits at my tongue until itself can speak; 
Spills on my lips the riches of its wine, 
That I may get you merry with a kiss. 
It makes me taller than I walked before — 
Broadens my breast and shoulders, for more 

room. 
That you may feel, when your dear head is 

laid 
In rest against them, all the world is yours. 



[60] 



I 



SOMETHING ELSE 




JESSIE darling! Bessie dear! 
Evermore to me most near; 
Born beneath the northern skies, 
With their clear light in your eyes ; 
Full of Httle wilful ways, 
Like the changeful northern days ; 
Always to my heart most near — 
Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 

Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 
When the days are bright and clear, 
While the children are at play. 
Laughing as but children may. 
And I hear their happy noise. 
Ah, I seem to hear your voice 
As I once did, sweet and clear, 
Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 

[6i] 



i 



SOMETHING ELSE 



Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 
Day and night you seem so near 
That my hand upon your head, 
That I may be comforted, 
Vainly do I think to place ; 
Vainly seek to hold your face 
With my hands my own face near, 
Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 

Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 
Still you haunt me; seeming near 
Your light footfalls follow mine; 
Still around my neck you twine 
Your arms, in my thoughts and dreams. 
Till it seems — it only seems! — 
Your bright face to mine is near, 
Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 

Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 
All my heart keeps calling, here, 
While I lonely, silent, wait 
The unwindings which are fate; 



[62] 



N 



SOMETHING ELSE 



Calling you to come to me 
As in childhood, blithe and free, 
Each to hold each dearest here, 
Bessie darling! Bessie dear! 



[63] 



1 



SOMETHING ELSE 




E'RE going whither, sweetheart, 
whither, 
Away from Good-Bye-Land? 
Yet sometimes turn and gaze back thither. 

While tired we resting stand. 
With vain regrets the longings reach us, 

Of days now fading fast, 
To answer beckonings that beseech us 
To linger with the past. 

Only the past, sweetheart, is real — 

The present we know not, 
Except by trust. It is ideal, 

Until it finds its lot 
Far back, as part of that Good-Bye-Land 

In true perspective shown — 
The distant, silent, shining island 

To only memory known. 

[64] 



SOMETHING ELSE 



To-day is big with care and sorrow, 

Because it is to-day; 
And we distrust or dread to-morrow. 

As bringing — what it may : 
But let us hold, sweetheart, and never 

Release, a clinging hand, 
But keep a love that lasts forever 

Back in the Good-Bye-Land. 



[6s] 



II 



1 

i 



SOMETHING ELSE 




fiipe on fiipe 

LL the long and toil-bright day, 
Love, from you am I away; 
Now when twilight shadows come, 
I draw near to you and home. 
Kisses sweet, kisses sweet. 
Kisses for you as we meet ! 
Ah, my love, how long it is 
Since we parted, with a kiss! 

Lightly comes to us the breeze. 
Blown from balmy distances. 
Near us mated sparrows rest. 
Silent with a love-filled nest. 

Kisses sweet, kisses sweet. 

On my tired eyelids beat 

Like blown rose leaves. Sweet it is, 

Resting so, to feel your kiss! 

LssfO. [66] 



SOMETHING ELSE 



Bright for us the lovers' star, 
Venus, shines in heav'n afar, 
Slowly melting in the west, 
Lighting other lovers blest. 

Kisses sweet! kisses sweet! 

Still your lips, my love, I greet. 

Stars may die, and leave me this 

You to kiss me, you to kiss ! 



[67] 



1 



I 



SOMETHING ELSE 



ZU QXni>cttonc 



m 



p more! No more! 
^ A voice comes, welling, knelling, 
From lips, and tongues, and hearts that of 

the past are telling. 
And 'round my hushed, sad soul the accents, 

swelling. 
In requiem surge and pour. 
And while I dream o'er earlier, happy 

hours 
The young years glide away amid their 

flow'rs. 
And as they dim towards life's birth-bound- 
ed shore 
Comes softly back the sad refrain, No 

more! 

No more! No more! 
The sounds come, knelling, welling 

[68] 



1 



SOMETHING ELSE 



Out of the past, my heart reluctant, sad, 

compelling 
To thoughts that bloom in tears. The deep 

tones, swelling. 
Surge over it and pour: 
Though early hopes visit my dreams again, 
And move on spectre-like as white gulls 

float the main. 
Still like the sea's sob, heard from some lone 

shore. 
Comes sadly back the soft refrain. No more ! 

No more! No more! 
A sound comes welling, knelling, 
Like old monastic bells, where cowled 

monks are dvwelling, 
As to each cell the time of prayer telling 

Their sounds through silence pour. 
But banish I regret through life's last pray'r. 
Nothing avails unless regret be there — 
No paean swells o'er life's eternal shore. 
Except above the soft refrain, No more! 



[69] 



1 



MfUx iiee 



1 



(go6in0 

^^^BhERE*S a robin singing in the old 

mnWi 

[jl^^j^l elm, yonder — 

Don't you hear his song? — 
Where the brook goes glancing gaily under, 

With a gypsy, tell-tale tongue; 
The brook, that prattles, and gleams, and 
gushes 

Along, for a little time. 
And then with a flash down the mill-race 
rushes, 

Roaring a watery chime. 

There's a robin singing in the old elm, 
yonder — 
Hark to what he says! 
There'll a change come soon, and I shouldn't 
wonder 
If violets bloomed, now-a-days. 

[71] 



Qlofe 

Courtesy is acknowledged to monthly 
magazines for republications from them as 
follows: Anchyses to Venus, Knicker- 
bocker Magazine; The Soldier's Wife, Har- 
per's Magazine; Love's Ancient Gifts, 
National Magazine; Co' Bossie, the Cosmo- 
politan Magazine. 



[73] 



^i 



I 



AFTER ALL 



For the lambs lie out on the sunny hillside, 

Like spots of latest snow ; 
And the village girls, how they laugh by the 
rillside, 

Where the golden adders'-tongues blow! 

There's a robin singing in the old elm, 
yonder — 
Singing a double tune. 
Do you see his mate, by the brook-bank, 
under ? 
Their nest will be full in June! 
What romance, or memory of romances. 

Flits by with each eager wing — 
And there's more in the robin's song, one 
fancies. 
More than we hear him sing ! 



[72] 



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